Cleansed
by NewHeaven
Summary: Bromance. Drabbly tag for "The Ex-Factor" 1.4. WIP. Wes doesn't make it to the refrigerator for those wings.
1. Preface

Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing them.

* * *

In the year since his divorce from Alex, Wes unconsciously searched for anything that might empower him. Joining LAPD, which ultimately led to his marriage's demise, was the first of many decisions he'd made that reinforced his confidence. He was unsure why he so craved affirmation, hunted for it. The origin of his dependence could have been a number of different experiences, not the least of which, maybe, was his parents' overly high expectations as a child.

Perhaps his insatiable need had been the nail in the coffin of his relationship with Alex; she couldn't provide him with the assurance he needed to be successful in his new job. At the same time, she was unsure of his ability to keep himself alive as he valiantly battled crime. The separation had, of course, left him heartbroken. In his loneliness he found it was even more difficult to supplant his insecurities. He felt as though he were chasing a ghost, looking for anything that might fill the ever-growing hole in his heart.

Then, Wes met Travis. Incorrigible, ornery, and absolutely unbearable, Travis somehow managed to worm his way into that empty space. Wes was still vastly separated from completeness; however, Travis unknowingly gave him a strength he had never known before. Partnership seemed like the only realistic answer to Wes. How could he pass up the opportunity to experience such confirmation daily while truly fulfilling what he believed to be his life's calling?

As time went on, the vast emptiness inside Wes began to subside. Their work partnership was nowhere near perfect; quite the contrary, he could hardly stand to be in the same room with Travis most of the time. Despite their seemingly irreconcilable differences (count on Wes to put it in legal terms), Wes felt complete. The incident with the gun had been a fluke, a moment fueled by rage. Like he could ever shoot Travis, who was responsible for his renewed value. Dr. Ryan could try all she wanted to repair their relationship. What no one seemed to realize was their relationship had always been broken and it would always stay that way. But, the way Wes saw it, broken was human, was acceptable, especially when it allowed him to be somewhat whole again.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not my characters. :(

* * *

So, naturally when Wes heard from another detective about this cleanse that would make him feel like a superhero, he wanted to try it.

Then, Phil's partner's encouraging only spurred him on more. If that low life who talked trash about Travis could handle it, then he should have no problem barreling through the hunger. No one insults both Travis and Wes in the same day. That thought alone drove him on for several hours after their unpleasant discussion.

His insistence to best the other man only lasted so long before the delirious starvation began to make itself known. His more primal instincts (the "I am hungry, so therefore I must consume everything in sight" mentality, for example) began to rear their ugly head, protesting with every growl of his increasingly empty and probably shrinking stomach.

Travis wasn't helping either, shoving his face with every greasy piece of meat he could find just because he wasn't committed to some awesome (really?), strengthening (never felt weaker) cleanse. It was in defiance that Wes stood somewhat shakily to go retrieve another shake. The cleansing rules dictated he could consume one whenever he was hungry. The ideal time was every two to four hours, but two to four hours turned in to thirty to forty minutes due to the cramping and groaning in Wes' gut. In the past half hour, his stomach growled angrily every few seconds, interrupting anything he was trying to accomplish at his desk.

As he rose, the room spun around him like a fast paced carousel. He braced himself with his hands on the flat surface of his desk, waiting for the horizon to right itself again. It took maybe three seconds which was apparently too long because Travis, who had been absorbed in a case file, looked up, a small wrinkle of tension forming between his eyebrows. He questioned, "Wes? What are you doing?"

Widening his eyes and hoping the movement he was about to make wouldn't exacerbate his light-headed feeling, Wes turned to his confused partner. "Just…" Pause. "Really hungry, I guess. I'm gonna go get another shake. I'll be right back," he muttered. Waiting a little longer to settle the last of the dizziness, he then embarked on the short journey to the break room where another pea-green shake awaited him.

As he slowly made his way to the refrigerator, his vision began to darken around the edges. In a strange sensation almost like a sudden head rush, the composure he had gathered was shattered. He stopped in the center of the empty room, fearing a fall after his balance completely disappeared. The darkness in his periphery slowly began encroaching in his central vision.

The thought occurred to Wes suddenly as this was happening and he thought he might have flushed with embarrassment had he not been on the verge of passing out. The lack of solid food in his diet was getting to him; he was probably going to faint. His previously locked knees weakened as his accurate prediction began to occur. All he could think was how Travis would never let him live this down. Within seconds, his knees sharply hit the hard surface of the floor and he was unconscious before his face could follow suit.

* * *

Travis watched skeptically as his partner wandered, very un-Wes-like, to the kitchen where his disgusting food was stored, labeled and organized. There was something off about the way he was walking. Maybe he found a lead and needed a few minutes to hash it out over a nice okra flavored puree. Travis was working on his own lead, hoping to beat out Phil. He wished Wes would share if he had a break through.

Turning his eyes back to the file, scanning for anything to put him a few steps ahead, he was once again immersed in the case. There was something to these car-jackings that he was missing. He slowly began to tune out the sounds of the bull pen, scanning line after line.

A vague 'thump' from the kitchen brought him once again out of his studious searching. Realizing Wes had been gone almost five minutes, Travis stood to approach him and maybe even scold him. He was really trying to get a leg up on his ex-partner. Wes screwing around in the kitchen wasn't helping anybody.

Opening the door to the break room with more force than necessary, Travis stopped dead in his tracks. There was Wes, prone on the floor, face turned sideways, nose bleeding into an excessive puddle on the tile. Shocked and unsure how to proceed Travis rushed to his partner's side, naturally searching for some other kind of injury besides the clearly broken nose. No one else was in or even near the break room, and Wes seemed to be completely fine apart from his facial malady.

With gentle hands, Travis maneuvered his partner into lying on his back so he could better evaluate Wes' injuries. Probing his ribs and coming up empty, Travis sat back on his heels and softly peeled back one of Wes' eyelids, hoping for normal reactivity. The pupil contracted a little sluggishly but could be accounted for by the dim fluorescent light of the room.

As Travis pulled his hand from his partner's face to reach for his phone and call for a bus, a pale hand shot out and grabbed his own to stop him. Startled, Travis leaned in closer to his partner, hoping to hear the start of a whisper. "Don't…" he heard said by a meek voice that couldn't possibly belong to his partner.

Travis frowned. "Wes…" he started. "I have to, man. You passed out. What happened? Weren't you just getting a shake?"

A little louder and bolder, Wes replied, "Yeah… I got a little dizzy and fell. I must have hit my face on the floor. Ow."

Simultaneously putting a comforting hand on Wes' chest to keep him down and calmly calling for an ambulance, Travis tried to ascertain the extent of the injury. "It looks like it might be broken," he said disapprovingly.

"Well, crap. I knew this cleanse was a bad idea…" Wes mumbled. He squirmed, trying to be released of his partner's hold on him. "Come on, Travis, let me up. I'm fine. We really don't need to make a big deal out of this."

Travis scowled at Wes and hung up the phone. He sighed and said, "If you didn't want to make a big deal, you shouldn't have passed out and fallen on that pretty face of yours."


End file.
